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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128742">Catharsis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskey_With_Patron/pseuds/Whiskey_With_Patron'>Whiskey_With_Patron</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Prison, Torture, but it's there. oh boy it's there, i'm going with explicit to be safe, it's not described in a LOT of detail, lots of blood like jfc, please heed the warnings, should this be rated mature or explicit?? idk, there is some skinning and a bit of burning, this one is a lot boys, why did i write this??? i honestly don't know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:54:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30128742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskey_With_Patron/pseuds/Whiskey_With_Patron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quackity said he'd make Dream's life hell until he told him about the book of necromancy. He's just keeping his promise. </p><p>(fic is properly capitalized btw, i just get lazy with the tags)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Catharsis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i don't. i don't actually know why i wrote this to be honest, i watched Quackity's lore stream and my stupid writer brain went "haha villain Quackity go brrrrr" and now here i am. this is the first dark fic i've ever written so the descriptions aren't quite as detailed, but keep in mind that there is still Violence and such </p><p>this is also the first fic i've ever written that can't be rated Teen or General. what alternate timeline have i fallen into</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time was downright <em>cathartic</em>. </p><p>When Quackity strolled into that cell and showed Dream the weapons Sam had let him have, the fear that flooded Dream’s eyes and the desperate scream of Sam’s name that echoed off the obsidian walls had been almost satisfying. No one on the server had ever evoked that much pure terror in Dream’s voice before. No one but Quackity. </p><p>The first swing with the blunt side of the axe brought a nauseating crack from Dream’s kneecap, and the shriek of pain that followed would have made anyone else cringe in sympathy. For Quackity, it felt <em>good</em>. Dream had caused so many problems, and Quackity was the karma coming around to kick him in the ass. </p><p>He didn’t do much the first time. He didn’t use Sam’s sword at all, and he never touched the pliers or the shears he’d been given. Some part of Quackity told him to hold back, to keep himself from letting loose right away. A small part of him actually felt bad, doing this to another person. No matter how much he urged himself to take the shears from his inventory and go to town on Dream’s skin, a little knot formed in his stomach every time he thought about it. </p><p>Dream didn’t tell him about the revive book, anyway. He still had plenty of time to get worse. </p><p>The second time was satisfying. </p><p>Quackity walked into the cell, axe on his shoulder and tools in his inventory. Dream sat in the corner of the cell, huddled next to the chest that held nothing but books and quills. He looked up as Quackity walked in. He’d put his mask on since Quackity last visited. Mildly disappointed in not getting the satisfaction of seeing the fear in Dream’s eyes, Quackity asked if he was willing to talk about the revive book yet. He said no. </p><p>Quackity brought out the sword that day. He poked and prodded at Dream with the blade like a scientist observing a scared lab rat. He asked questions and didn’t even give Dream time to answer before he jabbed at his skin, drawing blood each time. </p><p>To his credit, Dream hardly reacted, but he couldn’t hide the tightness in his shoulders the longer it went on, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for it to progress into something worse. Quackity finally took pity on him and slammed the pommel of the sword into the back of Dream’s head. </p><p>He didn’t use the shears or pliers that day either. He could have done a lot worse. He didn’t know why he held himself back. </p><p>When Quackity decided he was done, he stood at the lava, waiting for Sam to let him out. He listened to the lava bubbling and the ragged breathing of Dream curled up in the corner as he waited. </p><p>He heard Dream mumble something, too quiet for him to hear. He turned to glance at him. “What?”</p><p>Dream lifted his head. Blood stained the white porcelain of his mask. He reached behind his head and unclasped it. The mask fell to the floor and he looked up at Quackity through his matted hair. His breathing sounded much less laboured now that he didn’t have something obscuring his face. </p><p>“How’s Sapnap?” he asked, his voice hoarse from screaming. </p><p>Quackity tightened his grip on the axe. “He’s fine.”</p><p>Dream nodded and lowered his head again. </p><p>The third day was when it started getting frustrating. </p><p>Quackity entered the cell with his tools and asked if Dream was willing to talk about the book yet. Upon receiving the same answer he’d gotten the past two times, Quackity wasted no time in hefting his axe and swinging the blunt side at Dream’s head. </p><p>Irritation stung at the edge of Quackity’s head, and he found himself putting a little more force than usual into his swings. He needed that revive book. He lost his bet with Schlatt, and now he needed to hold up his end of the deal. Why couldn’t Dream just stop making things difficult for once in his life?</p><p>He still didn’t work his way up to the shears. </p><p>He stopped earlier than he had the last two times, breathing heavily, heart thumping from adrenaline. Bruises and gashes covered nearly every inch of Dream’s skin. Quackity had done enough for the day. </p><p>As he waited for Sam to let him out, Dream said something again. Quackity turned toward him and cocked his head to let him know he was listening. </p><p>“How’s George doing?”</p><p>Quackity turned back to the lava. “He’s doing just fine, Dream.”</p><p>The fourth time wasn’t nearly as satisfying as the first two. </p><p>He stuck with the axe and the sword. He used the blunt side of the axe and the pommel of the sword for the most part, unwilling to cause Dream to bleed as much as he had on that first day. He didn’t need Dream dying before he could get anything out of him. </p><p>Dream didn’t scream as much. He groaned and whimpered every time a weapon connected, but he didn’t scream for Sam to save him like he had before. It felt almost wrong to be beating up someone who already looked like they were giving up. </p><p>But Quackity really needed that book. </p><p>Quackity went for another swing with the axe, but he paused. Looking down at the pathetic form of someone who used to be the god of the server, cowering and beaten on the floor... It was too pitiful for Quackity to feel any sort of joy over doing anything more today. </p><p>He lowered his axe and stepped back. He looked over Dream’s frail body and raised a brow. “Has Sam been feeding you?”</p><p>Dream blinked at the words that hit him instead of the axe. “Uh... no, not really.”</p><p>Quackity pulled up his inventory. Sam had stopped clearing his stuff out before he visited, as it would be pointless anyway. He found a loaf of bread and tossed it in Dream’s direction. </p><p>Dream stared at the bread like it was made of diamonds. He looked up at Quackity, confusion in his eyes. </p><p>Quackity shrugged. “Can’t have you dying before I’m done with you.”</p><p>Quackity wanted to try something new on the fifth day. </p><p>He had all the weapons Sam allowed him to have, but he kept them all in his inventory. He strolled right up to where Dream was huddled near the chest. He had his mask on again today, but that wouldn’t last long. </p><p>Dream tilted his head as he watched Quackity walk in. “No weapons?”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve got them.” He stopped in front of Dream, hands in his pockets. “Ready to talk?”</p><p>Dream heaved a sigh. That was an answer in itself. </p><p>Quackity rolled up his sleeves. “Take the mask off.”</p><p>The first punch to Dream’s face sent a sickening crack echoing off the walls. Dream yelped and pressed both hands over his nose, eyes watering, blood trickling through his fingers and down his chin. Every blow drew cries and pleads from Dream’s mouth, begging for Quackity to stop, just stop it, no please I’m going to die, Q please stop it <em>stop it—</em></p><p>Quackity didn’t stop. He thought back to Tommy’s last visit, hearing the news that he’d been beaten to death in prison by Dream, and he considered what would happen if Quackity turned the tables. Wouldn’t it be fitting if Dream’s last life was taken by someone beating him to death in prison the exact same way he’d done to a child?</p><p>But he didn’t. </p><p>Quackity gave Dream some food again when he was done, a few apples he’d had in his inventory for a while and never got around to eating. He sat by the lava and waited for Sam to let him out as Dream slowly munched on the food he’d been given. </p><p>“What’s the ring for?”</p><p>Quackity furrowed his brow and looked up. “Huh?”</p><p>Dream raised a shaky hand to his own face and tapped on a slowly forming bruise, where a small red indent stood out on his right cheek. “You’re wearing a ring. What’s it for?”</p><p>Quackity gingerly twisted his engagement ring around the bruises that darkened his knuckles. “Getting married.”</p><p>Dream’s eyes lit up. “To who?”</p><p>The lava lowered and Quackity left before he could answer the question. </p><p>Quackity used the shears on the sixth day. </p><p>He walked into the cell, hands in his pockets, no weapons in sight. Dream blinked, likely thinking this meant another day of punching and kicking, just like yesterday. His breath hitched when Quackity pulled the shears from his pocket. </p><p>Quackity grinned. “Ready to talk, big man?”</p><p>Dream was stubborn, Quackity could give him that. He gave no information on the book, no matter how much skin Quackity took off the back of his arm. Dream started screaming like he had during the first few days, desperately shrieking for Sam to rescue him. </p><p>Quackity was almost surprised when names other than Sam’s started leaving Dream’s mouth. He screamed for George, for Sapnap, for Puffy to come save him, despite the fact that none of them were anywhere near the prison. Tears streamed down his face. He writhed and squirmed and tried to get away, but Quackity squeezed his bleeding arm and snapped at him to stay still. </p><p>Once Dream started screaming for <em>Tommy</em> to save him, Quackity knew he’d gone far enough for the day. </p><p>He sat leaning against the wall near the lava as he waited for Sam to let him out. Dream curled up all the way across the room, cradling his injured arm close to his body, whimpering as it bled. He didn’t even touch the bundle of carrots and the piece of steak Quackity had tossed him. </p><p>Quackity took a deep breath. “Karl and Sapnap.”</p><p>Dream sniffled and looked up. “What?” he rasped. </p><p>“You asked who I’m marrying,” Quackity sighed. “It’s both of them.”</p><p>Dream fell silent for a few short moments. “Congratulations,” he whispered finally. </p><p>The seventh day almost made Quackity feel bad. </p><p>He asked Dream if he was ready to give up his information on the revive book, sure that he was finally getting somewhere after the events of yesterday. But Dream just lowered his head and resigned himself to pain. </p><p>The shears came out again. Quackity was a lot more rough with them than he’d been the previous day. He needed that book, and if more pain was going to convince Dream to tell him about it, then so be it. </p><p>He switched to the skin on the back of Dream’s right arm and went to town on it. Yesterday he’d been slow and gentle, careful not to rip too much skin away at a time. He’d had a knot in his stomach the whole time he heard Dream sobbing. </p><p>Now that knot had unraveled. </p><p>He didn’t let up when Dream pleaded for him to stop, when Dream screeched for Tommy and Techno and Wilbur to save him, when Dream’s voice finally gave out and he devolved into yelps and whines. </p><p>Quackity just sheared off a deep chunk of skin when he noticed Dream beginning to heave. Quackity scrambled to his feet and skittered back, shoes slipping on the blood-slicked floor. He backed away just in time for Dream to double over and vomit on the floor. He’d hardly eaten over the past week, so all that really came up was bile. </p><p>Dream collapsed into sobs as blood trickled from his arm onto the floor. A shame, Quackity thought, that Dream had nothing to clean up his own mess with. </p><p>Quackity dug through his inventory and brought out a healing potion. Not a strong one, just enough to use as a disinfecting ointment for his wounds. He didn’t want Dream dying from an infection. Not yet. </p><p>Dream gazed at the glass bottle as Quackity set it on the floor next to him. A couple loaves of bread were set down beside it. </p><p>Dream quietly munched on the food he’d been provided. Quackity wiped the blood off the shears, ready to leave. </p><p>“When’s the wedding?”</p><p>Dream’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but Quackity heard it all the same. He glanced up to look at Dream across the room. </p><p>“Haven’t decided on a date.” He kept cleaning the shears with the fabric of his shirt. </p><p>“Can you show me the wedding pictures when it happens?”</p><p>Quackity scoffed. “You think I’m going to be coming down here for that long?”</p><p>Dream shrugged. Quackity huffed. “Yeah sure, I’ll bring the wedding pictures in.”</p><p>On day eight, Quackity started going numb. </p><p>The first few days of this had felt justified, like Quackity was getting back at Dream for every single atrocity he’d ever committed on this server. Now it felt almost like a chore, something he was required to do in order to achieve his goal. </p><p>He went back to using the sword. He’d had enough of the shears for now. He was more calm today, sort of bored, honestly, as he jabbed and poked at Dream’s wounds with the blade. He didn’t make him bleed nearly as much as he had for the past two days. Dream needed time to recover his strength before Quackity went back in with force. </p><p>When he was done, he brought out a big towel from his inventory. Dream watched on in confusion as Quackity splashed some water on the dried bloodstains and scrubbed at them with the towel. Once the fabric was reddish brown and the floor was relatively clean, Quackity tossed the towel into the wall of lava. He gave Dream a bag of berries and a bit of pork before he went and waited for Sam to let him back out. </p><p>“Do Karl and Sapnap know you’re visiting me?” Dream’s quiet voice asked. </p><p>Quackity twisted his engagement ring. “Yeah,” he lied. </p><p>“Do they know what you’re doing?”</p><p>“So what if they do?” Quackity asked. </p><p>“Are they okay with it?”</p><p>Quackity paused. “Well, we’re still engaged. I think that says something.”</p><p>Dream’s shoulders slumped a little. If Quackity could get him to think people wanted him to suffer, maybe Quackity could eventually manipulate him into giving up information about the revive book. </p><p>Quackity broke out the pliers on the tenth day. </p><p>He strolled into Dream’s cell, hands in his pockets, and walked right over to where Dream sat next to the bed in the corner. He sat down cross-legged in front of Dream. A little grin stretched across his face at the fear in Dream’s eyes. He was almost excited to try something new. </p><p>Dream eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”</p><p>Quackity held out a hand, the other still in his pocket. “Gimme your left hand.”</p><p>Dream swallowed. Shaking, he placed his hand on Quackity’s palm. </p><p>Quackity brought the pliers out of his pocket. Dream’s eyes widened at the sight of them. “No, please,” he whispered. </p><p>“You ready to talk then?” </p><p>Dream swallowed. For one glorious moment, he almost seemed like he would say yes. Instead, he ducked his head and hid his face in the crook of his free arm. </p><p>“Alright, we’ll do it my way.”</p><p>Three ripped out fingernails later, Dream was crying on the floor, blood all over his hand. The grip Quackity had on his arm kept him from pulling away or lying down, so he resorted to leaning against Quackity’s side to keep himself upright. Quackity was too invested in his task to care. </p><p>Once all five fingernails on his left hand were gone, Dream’s wails slowly faded into sniffles and choked sobs. He curled up against Quackity’s side, seemingly either unaware or uncaring of the fact that Quackity was the one who caused him this pain in the first place. Quackity let him. He’d allow Dream some human contact that didn’t involve violence for once. Who knew the last time the guy had even been hugged?</p><p>Quackity started wiping the blood off the pliers with his shirt. “I really fucking need that book, Dream,” he said. </p><p>Dream didn’t respond, just curled around his wounded hand as the blood soaked into his prison jumpsuit. His clothes were more red than orange at this point. </p><p>He gave Dream some potatoes before he left. Oddly enough, Dream grimaced at the sight of them and didn’t eat a single one. </p><p>Quackity was getting sick of this by the eleventh day. </p><p>He went back to using the axe. Dream didn’t even make a noise as Quackity hit him over and over and over with the blunt side. The most he got out of Dream was a few gasps after a particularly hard swing. </p><p>He used his fists, too. Beating Dream to a pulp felt so much better than it really should have. With every punch, Quackity imagined that he was personally getting revenge of behalf of everyone on the server Dream had hurt or disappointed. Tommy, Tubbo, Puffy, Sapnap—hell, even Fundy and that Ranboo kid. Dream had caused so much pain for just about everyone on this server. </p><p>He made sure to punch extra hard with his left hand so Dream could really feel his engagement ring. </p><p>Dream remained on the floor when Quackity was done. He didn’t even make a move to get up when Quackity tossed some carrots his way. His eyes were glazed over, staring at the ceiling but a thousand miles away at the same time. Quackity might have thought he was dead if not for the way his breath rattled in his chest. </p><p>“Can you get George to visit?”</p><p>Quackity paused in the middle of wiping the blood off his hands. “What?”</p><p>Dream shifted where he lay, hissing through his teeth. “George. Can you... can you tell him to visit me?”</p><p>George was in Kinoko Kingdom. Quackity hadn’t seen him in a while. </p><p>“I can try.”</p><p>Quackity brought a knife on the twelfth day. </p><p>He opted out of using the sword this time. It didn’t really do much good, unless Quackity wanted to kill Dream, and that wasn’t an option yet. </p><p>The knife was smaller, more precise than the shears. He was able to get thinner layers of skin off Dream’s arms, cut into his face and throat without killing him, dig the blade under his collarbones the way other weapons wouldn’t have been able to. </p><p>The screams that filled the cell that day were louder than they had been in past visits. </p><p>Quackity decided to clean up the blood again, since the floor was stained with the stuff after everything Quackity had done. Dream didn’t even have the strength to move from his spot when Quackity walked up with a towel and a spray bottle. </p><p>He kicked Dream’s arm. “Move, green bitch. I’m cleaning your mess.”</p><p>Dream winced at the kick and let out an involuntary whine. It was pathetic, honestly, in Quackity’s opinion. </p><p>Quackity heaved an irritated sigh. He knelt next to Dream and lifted his head. Dream hissed at the contact as Quackity propped up his shoulders with one arm. He hooked his other arm under Dream’s legs and lifted him off the floor. He was much lighter than Quackity first expected. It was probably the lack of food. </p><p>Quackity strode across the cell. He carelessly tossed Dream onto the bed. Dream gave a pitiful yelp as he landed. </p><p>Quackity brought his towel and spray bottle back out of his inventory. “I told you to move, asshole,” he said, slinging the towel over his shoulder. </p><p>A loaf of bread and some chicken is what Quackity let Dream have that day. He expected Dream to ask him more questions, start up a short conversation like he usually did, but the green bastard had passed out on his bed by the time Quackity left. </p><p>The thirteenth day was the last, and Quackity was beyond relieved for that. </p><p>Quackity walked into that cell with a plan. He was going to get that information out of Dream one way or another. He was sick of the stubborn refusal he was faced with every time he came in for a visit. Whether Dream liked it or not, Quackity was going to get information about that necromancy book. </p><p>Every single weapon Sam allowed him to have was stashed in his inventory, aside from the axe, which he carried on his shoulder. Dream looked up. Quackity didn’t miss the flash of fear in his eyes as Quackity’s footsteps echoed off the obsidian walls. </p><p>He paused. “You ready?” Whether he was asking if Dream was ready to talk or ready to get started with the torture, even Quackity didn’t know. </p><p>Dream lowered his head as an answer. Quackity sighed. “Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon anyway.”</p><p>Dream snapped his head up, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”</p><p>Quackity dropped the axe and rolled up his sleeves. “Quackity, what do you mean?” Dream asked again, voice shaky. </p><p>Instead of answering, Quackity lashed out and grabbed Dream by the throat. He brought out the pliers as he backed Dream against the wall. </p><p>“Open wide, bastard.”</p><p>Dream frantically shook his head. He pried at Quackity’s hand, trying to breath around the tight grip on his throat. His neck was covered in bloody scabs from yesterday. Quackity squeezed harder until they broke. Blood streamed down his fingers. </p><p>“If you don’t open your mouth, I can always remove your jaw entirely.”</p><p>Dream’s eyes were already watering. He grit his teeth, the one thing that had mostly remained undamaged through the past two weeks. </p><p>Soon, three bloody teeth were piled on the floor, and Quackity was working on removing a fourth. Keeping Dream still through the process was a trial. Quackity managed to make him stay put under the threat of doing even worse, but survival instincts were a bitch. He couldn’t even count the amount of times Dream tried to hit him or push him away to get him to stop. Dream actually landed a punch to the side of Quackity’s head, which was rewarded with a fifth tooth being tossed to the obsidian floor. </p><p>Quackity finally let go of Dream’s throat. Dream’s legs gave out and he sank to the floor, breath hitching with sobs. He swallowed and then grimaced at the taste of his own blood in his mouth. </p><p>Quackity grabbed Dream’s arm. “We’re not done.”</p><p>Skinning Dream’s legs proved to be harder than Quackity thought. The guy may have been weak, but he still wouldn’t stop kicking. Quackity tried to shush him, calm him down, by saying that moving would only make the wounds worse. Dream only listened for a few moments before the panic settled in again and he would try to squirm away, pleading for Quackity to stop. </p><p>Quackity sat back, shears and knife in his hands. The backs of Dream’s legs were a gruesome, bloody mess. If Quackity wasn’t careful, he could cause Dream to bleed out and die. </p><p>He stood up and walked to the lava. Dream gave a great, shuddering breath, assuming that Quackity was done. He wasn’t. </p><p>Quackity took his sword from his inventory and stuck the blade into the lava. He heard Dream shuffling around behind him. Probably crawling his way to his water hole to clean up his wounds. </p><p>Once the blade was hot enough, Quackity took it out of the lava and walked back to Dream in four quick strides. He stepped on Dream’s leg to stop him, earning a pained yell in response. He knelt down and pressed the hot blade against one of Dream’s legs. </p><p>The bloodcurdling shriek that rang through the cell almost made Quackity wish he’d taken out Dream’s vocal chords. He grabbed the back of Dream’s jumpsuit to keep him still as he lifted the blade, turned it over, and pressed it to Dream’s other leg. </p><p>The smell of burning flesh filled the room even after Quackity put the sword back in his inventory. He stood and grabbed Dream’s shoulder and flipped him over onto his back. Dream whimpered, trying to keep his legs from touching the floor to keep the pain to a minimum. </p><p>Quackity grabbed his discarded axe off the floor. He stepped on Dream’s left arm to keep it in place. “You might wanna look away for this one, big man.”</p><p>Dream’s breathing picked up. “No, no, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded. “Quackity no, please. Please don’t!” He twisted his head to look at the wall of lava. “SAM!” he called, eyes wild and frantic. “SAM, PLEASE!”</p><p>Quackity tightened his grip on the axe. “Sam won’t save you. Neither will Sapnap, or George, or Puffy. <em>Hell</em> knows Tommy won’t ever waste his energy on you. Your last day in this prison is going to be spent with me taking you apart, piece by piece. And I’m not gonna let you die until I decide to put you out of your misery.”</p><p>He raised the axe. </p><p>“I’LL TELL YOU!”</p><p>Quackity paused before he could swing. He glanced at Dream out of the corner of his eye without lowering the axe. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. </p><p>Dream gulped. “I’ll tell you about the book,” he whispered. </p><p>Quackity stared at Dream, trying to gauge whether or not he was telling the truth. He hefted his axe. Dream flinched as if he thought Quackity would swing the axe and take off his hand. </p><p>Quackity took his foot off Dream’s arm. Dream snatched it away and held it close to his chest, trembling where he lay on the floor. Quackity walked to the chest in the corner and kicked it open. He found a book and quill, one of the few that were left. He grabbed it in one hand, the other still holding the axe, and walked back to Dream. </p><p>He held the book out. “Write down the steps.”</p><p>Dream’s hand was almost too shaky to hold the quill properly. He hurriedly scrawled words on the pages of the book as Quackity got to work cleaning up the blood on the floor. He glanced over Dream’s shoulder every once in a while to make sure his writing was legible. He caught the way Dream tensed every time he got close. </p><p>Quackity watched him write as he cleaned. It was so hard to believe that this man had once been the god of this server. He’d controlled everyone and everything here. Now he was reduced to a stuttering, trembling mess, all because someone who wasn’t a child decided to fight him for once. </p><p>It was sickening, honestly, the way Dream had built all his power off exploiting the naivety of the kids on this server. He’d nearly torn Tommy and Tubbo apart. He’d manipulated them into being his puppets for so long. And the moment someone who wouldn’t fall for his false promises of friendship and peace challenged him, he crumpled. </p><p>Dream lowered the quill. “I’m done,” he said quietly. </p><p>Quackity tossed the bloodied towel into the lava. “If you lied about any of it, I’ll be back.”</p><p>Dream nodded. “I know.”</p><p>Quackity looked down at Dream, at the pitiful mess he’d become. He walked over and sat on the floor facing him. He held out a hand. </p><p>Dream placed the book on his palm. Quackity stuck it in his inventory and held his hand out again. “Give your leg.”</p><p>Dream tensed. “I... I thought you were done. I gave you the book. I—please, Quackity—”</p><p>“Just give me your fucking leg,” Quackity snapped. </p><p>Dream swallowed. He took a deep breath and held out one leg. </p><p>Quackity grabbed his ankle as he rummaged around in his inventory. He found a healing potion and grabbed it. He uncorked it with his teeth before pouring some of the elixir on Dream’s burned, skinned leg. </p><p>Dream looked about ready to cry with relief. He let out a long, stuttering breath. He hissed when Quackity gently rubbed the potion over the wound. It wasn’t a strong potion, but it was stronger than the last one he’d given Dream. It would speed up the healing process a bit, at least. </p><p>He set the healing potion aside and grabbed a weak fire resistance potion to help with the burning. As he dribbled some of it over the wound, he paid it no mind when Dream’s sighing turned to soft, relieved cries. </p><p>He switched to Dream’s other leg once the first one was taken care of. By the time he was done, Dream had fallen silent. Quackity looked up to see him leaning against the wall, eyes closed, tear tracks mingling with the blood on his face. His breathing had evened out, although it still hitched every few seconds. Either he was asleep or close to it. </p><p>Quackity stood. He set another healing potion on the floor next to a bundle of steak and potatoes. </p><p>He tucked the book Dream had written the instructions in under his arm. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he muttered. </p><p>He stood at the lava and waited for Sam to let him out. It was time to hold up his end of the deal. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't plan on making a habit out of writing violent stuff like this, but feedback would still be appreciated! please lave a kudos if you enjoyed and let me know what you thought!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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